


Ghostboy

by Faiz



Series: Ghosts 'n Stuff [1]
Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Gen, ghost au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:11:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1368421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faiz/pseuds/Faiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas wasn't fond of the guy who was supposed to be moving into his childhood home. Not one bit.</p><p>And Guy-Manuel himself didn't believe the ridiculous claims that this house was supposedly haunted.</p><p>(For Monodes on tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghostboy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Monodes](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Monodes).



Thomas wasn’t very good at making friends. He wasn’t sure why, he thought he was pretty friendly. Maybe because he was a bit out of practice when it came to talking with people? He hadn’t really had a proper conversation with someone in years. For some reason people were put off whenever they saw him.

Maybe it was because he was dead.

Not zombie dead, no, that was gross. He’d smell and be all maggoty. He was a ghost. And he had been living alone in his house for a really long time now, and every time someone moved in they all moved out of the house quickly enough because Thomas kept startling them on accident. He didn’t mean to! But sometimes he was just a bit clumsy and ended up knocking over things that were on coffee tables or walls. Being a ghost was a lot harder than it looked. Even with all the years he was dead he had trouble phasing through things.

Or maybe it was just him.

Either way, no one really stayed a long time in his house. He was half okay with that, because it was his house! Every time someone came by they made mentions of renovating or changing it, and he didn’t want his childhood home to be changed at all. But now since so many people came and went, his little house had become well known to the teens and kids as being a haunted house. He didn’t like feeling like he was some dumb attraction for people to gawk at. He was just a simple little ghost he at least wanted someone to talk to.

He had only met ghosts one time before, a few years back. There had been some band on tour, and they had stopped by to check out Thomas’s house, and lo and behold he had seen in the tour truck another group of five ghosts peering up at him. They only stayed for around two hours while the live band creeped around the house. The ghosts had been a band called the Strokes, but they had all been killed in an accident. The tour bus ended up being fixed, and they ended up staying with it. 

They all seemed very sad though, because they couldn’t really play their instruments.

Thomas hoped he didn’t look that sad. Maybe that was what put people off of him. 

He had been shocked one morning to hear the door creak open downstairs. It confused him, because usually that meant that some kid or teen had decided to sneak around his house again. But they usually didn’t do that this early in the morning. Nevertheless, he tried to carefully phase through the wall so he could look down to see who had entered the house, and if he was going to actually have to do something to make them go away.

It was two people as it turns out, and one of them he recognized. She was the lady who was always the one trying to sell his house. The other person was someone that he didn’t recognize. He had long dark brown hair and seemed entirely bored about the entire situation. This guy? This was the guy who was going to try buying his home next? He’d probably be the one who’d last the longest, but Thomas wasn’t sure that he wanted someone who looked so...bitchy staying in his home. 

The lady who was selling the house had never seen Thomas before. He was pretty sure she suspected his existence, but decided that he wasn’t really dangerous at all and more of a nuisance more than anything. He didn’t have much of a problem with her. But most of the people who have tried to buy the house recently just want it because it’s ‘haunted’. 

“Why is this house so cheap? Especially when so many people have bought it before and left?” He heard the young man asked. 

“Oh...It’s been all those rumors about how the house is haunted…” The lady replied. “No one ends up staying for longer than maybe 2 or 3 weeks before leaving.” She sighed. “Does this bother you at all?”

The brunet shook his head. “I don’t believe in ghosts, so I’m doubtful it’ll stop me. I just need some place cheap to live.”

Thomas scowled. What kind of guy would say that ghosts don’t exist! Even when Thomas was still alive he believed in ghosts. If he did end up buying the house he was going to give this guy the fiercest talking to in existence. He just hoped that he wouldn’t freak out like everyone else and then run. But if he’s as mean as he looks, maybe its a good thing. Well, Thomas had had enough of watching the lady talking to this guy, so he was going to go back to sit in his room to see what would happen. 

He went to move his head out of the wall he phased through, but he got stuck. He froze, and cursed in his mind. Now was not the time for that to happen. He struggled, bracing his arm on the other side of the wall and tried to pull his head through the wall. 

Nothing.

He started to move his head side to side, shaking the painting that his head was through. He hated how he still couldn’t get the hang of phasing through these things no matter how long he’s been a ghost. He gasped when his head finally popped through the wall and he flung himself backwards hitting the wall. He ended up knocking over a hallway table and he heard the distinct sound of a painting falling to the ground. He panicked and quickly went through the door into his room. They probably heard him. Well, they definitely heard the painting fall probably. He was such an idiot!

Guy-Man and the realtor lady both flinched when a painting on the wall had suddenly crashed onto the ground. Guy-Man was very curious about the fact that the way the woman flinched made it seem like it had happened a few times before, but it still startled her nonetheless. 

“Are the walls sturdy?” He asked, walking up to where the painting had fallen and running his hand along the wall. 

“Yes, this house is very well-built. Nothing has been able to knock it down as of yet. Would you like me to show you the bedrooms?” 

Guy-Man shrugged. “Sure.”

He just really needed to find a cheap place to live. He had moved out here so he’d be closer to places where he’d go and try to perform in bars so then maybe his music career would pick up. Hell, he might even be willing to just play guitar on the streets for money. He just wanted to share his music with someone who might actually care. Not like back at home, where all he’d get was a ‘that’s nice dear’ and then get completely ignored until he started to play the music too loudly.

What he really didn’t anticipate was that actually finding a place to live was a bit...expensive. This was by far the cheapest place he had found, and it was actually a pretty nice place. The only reason that they were selling it for so cheap was because people apparently barely lasted living there because they say it’s haunted. Guy-Man didn’t believe in any of that shit. It was probably some sounds of the house settling and way too many stories for anyone’s own good. Like the painting. It probably had been hanging there for a good few years, and the nail got loose.

The realtor (Nina? Leslie? Rachael? He hadn’t been paying attention when she introduced herself.) led him up the stairs to show him around to the bedrooms. Guy-Man only needed one room, and maybe he could put random shit in another one, so maybe this house was a bit overdoing it. But who cares? It was cheap. The rooms were pretty hideous too, clearly designed a long time ago. 50-60 years ago? One room looked like it had started to be remodeled but was left half-done.

“This is the smallest bedroom, nothing too fabulous about it. I think it was previously a teen’s bedroom before the original family moved out.” Nina-Leslie-or-Rachael said kindly, looking around. “It really hasn’t been touched at all even when all the new families moved in. Still has the original paint and everything.”

It was a nice little room. A bit smaller than what Guy-Man would like, but it definitely had a nice cosy air to it. The only problem made Guy-Man grimace a little bit. The color of the room was hideous. An ugly shade of avocado green. “I’ll probably repaint this room…” He mumbled as she led him out to show the bathroom. 

He nearly got his hair caught in the door when it suddenly slammed shut behind him. It...It was probably just the wind. The window had been open when they exited the room. The rest of the tour was pretty much a formality now. Guy-Man was definitely buying this place. He was probably going to have to work as a barista or some shit while trying to find a gig to play his music, but he was going to do it. He was going to make it big. Then he could renovate this fucking old house into a stylish mansion where everyone will try to spy on him and learn about his life because he’s so damn famous...Yeah…Guy-Man began to drift off as the realtor kept talking about stuff he no longer cared about, imagining fancy clothes, glitters, and many, many female fans.

Thomas was practically fuming. The way that...Guy-Manuel was it? (He had heard Miss Realtor call him that) had scrutinized his room and had the audacity to say that he was going to repaint it? He could handle people staying in the other rooms, even though he hated how they dismantled his parents’ room and left it unfinished and nothing like it had been before. But his own room? He still lived here! He wasn’t going to move quarters from some short French kid! If he bought the house he was going to make sure that Guy-Manuel was going to stay far away from his bedroom. And also, his room color was not horrible. He saw that scowl and he didn’t like it one bit.

He had thought that maybe Guy-Manuel had given up on buying the house because he didn’t see him for at least two weeks, but while he had been sitting on the roof staring back at the backyard he had heard the sounds of a van approaching and saw a small moving van and some guys moving in boxes into the house. Thomas frowned, and considered going down there to freak them out and make them stop...But he hadn’t seen people who weren’t trying to be brave in so long…

So instead he carefully sunk back down into the house (only getting stuck for about a second) and hid around the corner listening to the gruff voices of the movers talking to each other. He heard a little bit of Guy-Manuel here and there, mainly instructing on where to put boxes and such. He wasn’t sure why he was hiding, usually no one could see him. There have been a few people here and there who has seen him and then usually when they screamed so did their friends. Other than that, he’s nothing but empty air to people. It made things pretty lonely sometimes. Well, most of the time. Even the people who could see him were too scared of him anyways.

He ended up going back into his room and (after a few tries) locking the door before he finally sunk onto the floor where his bed used to be. He missed his bed, and all his things. He’d never really be able to use any of them again, but the comfort of his things being there had been nice the first few years after he...after he died. But then his parents moved out, and took Thomas’s things with them, leaving him with nothing but an empty room and only the paint to remember them by.

Guy-Man swore as he yanked on the doorknob with no avail. The dumb bedroom door wouldn’t budge open. It seemed like it was locked, although Guy-Man remembered it had been open when he first got into the house that morning. He sighed and set down a box of his possessions before trying to jimmy the lock open, but unfortunately lock-picking was never his forte (that talent was left to his brother Paul) and he finally gave into defeat.He’d have to literally take the door down later, but he had no time for that. He could just use one of the other bedrooms.  
Really all he wanted to do at the moment was just finally pop open his instrument case and just start practicing for a gig that he managed to get at a local bar. Well...gig wasn’t the right word for it. It was a talent night that anyone was welcome to, but there was still a chance that someone could discover him! So when he entered the bedroom acrossed from the locked one, he dumped the box of his possessions so he could go get his guitar case. Even though he was surrounded by boxes and ugly dated furniture, he felt at home when he popped open the lid and took out his guitar. 

He plucked a few chords, letting them slowly turn into a simple tune that he had created for practice. There’d be little pauses here and there as he tuned his guitar, and soon he was playing the melody of a song he wrote. Finally, he was comfortable. He could do this. He could totally play in front of people and finally get noticed like he deserved. 

He flinched when he hit a wrong note, and sighed. 

It was going to take maybe a bit more work than he anticipated, but he was going to get there. He was closer to areas where he could perform, and he’d at least be noticed by other people just by living in the supposed ghost house. He began strumming his guitar again, humming along with the melody and singing the lyrics in his head. 

Thomas had actually been quite surprised when he suddenly heard the quiet sounds of music playing down in the small foyer of the house. He had made sure Guy-Manuel hadn’t been able to get into his room by locking it and then holding the door while he tried to get in, and he had felt pretty triumphant when he heard the groan in defeat and the footsteps leaving. The music that he was playing sounded quite nice, beautiful even. Thomas couldn’t help but be entranced by the guitar playing quietly.

He hadn’t heard proper music like this in a long time. Not since he was still alive and young. He wanted to go out of his room to hear it more clearly, maybe even watch the man who had moved into his house. But something in him was quite stubborn, telling him not to or else that would just be implying defeat. So instead he carefully pressed his semi-transparent body to the wall to hear just a bit more clearly.

It continued on like that for weeks. Thomas would strategically hide himself in places while Guy-Manuel would play music. He was learning quite quickly about many of the young man’s quirks and dreams. He always had flyers that were offering people to go and perform for free, and he was constantly calling clubs and bars asking if they needed someone to perform. Sometimes he’d hang up the phone grinning widely, but most of the time there were frowns and sighs of frustration. Thomas couldn’t help but be a bit frustrated too. He adored Guy-Manuel’s music, and he had slowly been becoming braver and braver to be closer while listening to him every day.

He was being extremely careful too, making sure he didn’t knock anything over while Guy-Manuel was playing. He had only nearly knocked down a few paintings like 10 or so times, which was really good for him. Today he was hanging around the bannister as he listened to Guy-Manuel play below him at the foot of the stairs. That was one of his favorite spots to play music, and Thomas wasn’t exactly sure why. He had heard Guy-Manuel mutter something about it, but Thomas clearly didn’t understand as much music terms as he thought he did because he didn’t really get what Guy-Manuel had said.

He closed his eyes while listening to the music, letting the notes filter through his semi-transparent body. Unfortunately for him, he had lost just the right amount of focus that he didn’t realize that he was quickly approaching a table until it was too late. He had snapped his eyes open as he stumbled back and knocked the table clean over and nearly had it fall down the stairs. Thomas panicked and he just stayed frozen floating a few inches off the ground as Guy-Manuel quickly stopped his playing and turned around to see what had happened.

His eyes widened considerably, and Thomas realized something when he screamed. “Oh...You can see me…” He mumbled quietly.

Guy-Manuel stood up quickly and gaped at him. “You’re...you’re...shit. You’re…”

“I’m Thomas! Thomas Bangalter, and please don’t scream again. Everyone does that and I never get to explain myself!” 

“Well...You’re a, a ghost! There isn’t really much to explain except...shit…” Guy-Manuel was breathing heavily and he put a hand on his forehead as he tried to calm down. “How long have you been here?!”

Thomas shrugged, allowing himself to float leisurely down the stairs. He didn’t want to scare Guy-Manuel off, because this is the longest conversation he’s managed to have with someone who was still alive. “I think around 50 or 60 years. I don’t know. I don’t really keep count.” Thomas gave an earnest look. “But I really like your music. It’s nice.”

Guy-Manuel looked less scared now, but still extremely confused, and grateful too. “Thank you...You seem to be the only one who thinks that. And you’re…”

“Dead.” Thomas finished helpfully. “Yeah, I am. You’re t-the first person I’ve t-talked to in a-awhile actually.” He said, stuttering suddenly when he realized this. He hadn’t even properly talked to someone in a long time.

“Yeah, I’m…” Guy-Manuel took a deep breath. “I’m talking to a fucking ghost.”

“And you can s-see me. W-which doesn’t happen t-too often.” Thomas added. “But I r-really do like your m-music. I always got f-frustrated too when you got off the p-phone and someone said n-no to you.”

Guy-Manuel smiled. “Seriously?”

Thomas nodded, grinning back. “Yes! You’re s-so amazing at music. It m-makes me wish I could play s-something. I used to be able to p-play piano. But I can’t now that I-I’m dead.”

“That’s too bad...It would have been fun if we could form a band or something. A guy and a ghost. That sure would make the papers…” Guy-Manuel chuckled quietly, and then looked curiously at Thomas. “How did you die, exactly?”

Thomas froze up at that, and then shook his hands in front of his face. “I….I d-don’t want to talk about it. N-not right now.” He shook his head. “N-no…”

Guy-Manuel’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. You don’t have to tell me.” He looked away from Thomas, and his eyes fell back onto his guitar. “But...Maybe since we figured out I can see you and we can talk…”

“What?” Thomas was curious.

“Since you can’t help me by playing an instrument, then why don’t you just help me brainstorm? Find lyrics, song notes...Y’know, whatever!” Guy-Manuel grinned widely. “When I get famous no one will believe me if I say a ghost helped me write my music!”

Thomas laughed. “No they probably won’t. But I’d love to help you.”

He let himself float down to sit next to Guy-Manuel, who immediately started to play music again. It felt so nice being able to listen so close, and being able to talk to Guy-Manuel every time he paused so he could make suggestions was nice. He smiled softly as he watched Guy-Manuel’s own smile form as he continued to play his song.


End file.
